


Lockdown

by ellerean



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellerean/pseuds/ellerean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The training pods are the ultimate for Olympic hopefuls, the one-on-one training for optimal performance. Swimming prodigy Haruka Nanase graduated to the pods at the unheard of age of twelve. But now, at sixteen, he meets someone from beyond the fence who confirms his suspicions that there's more than his electronic trainer and his perfect form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Of course Haru had noticed him.

He noticed anyone who lingered outside the training pods, the “restricted” zone that was easily snuck into. He knew of the hole in the chain-link fence that was just large enough for a trainee, which was conveniently concealed by a seemingly out-of-place rose bush. From his view at the highest floor Haru watched trainees crawl through that hole, their hair and swimsuits snagging on the wire fence. They’d emerge rubbing scratches from their legs, or fixing their hair, or clamping a hand over an arm where the fence had drew blood.

Haru was mostly indifferent to the trainees, swimming in their pool on the other side of the fence. But occasionally, there were those who were just shy of too large to fit through the hole. Some wouldn’t bother, merely standing by the fence and looking up at the levels upon levels of training pods. But Haru’s interest was piqued, for once, when one of them successfully maneuvered his way through the hole and into the restricted area.

Haru could easily call it in. He couldn’t be the only one to notice the man, either, who did a poor job of concealing himself as he rolled ungracefully onto the lawn. Even from a distance, Haru could see his scowl and the bloody gash on his cheek. Or was that his hair? He was, after all, ten stories away.

_“Extended recovery time detected. Nanase, please return to the pool.”_

Haru had never gotten used to the electronic trainer. Its feminine voice echoed over the rounded walls of the training pod, and was audible in the water when he swam. When he was a child, it hadn’t taken long for him to learn how to disable it. But that could only be after hours, after the other swimmers had gone home and the darkened training pod wouldn’t be uncommon.

_“Nanase, please return to the pool.”_

“Fine,” he mumbled, but waited a beat before turning from the window. The trespasser hadn’t gone far—he sat on the lawn cross-legged, head tilted back to look up at the rows upon rows of training pods. He was too far to read his facial expression, but could tell enough that it wasn't filled with the usual awe of trainees. Haru wondered if anyone else was watching the red-haired intruder. He couldn’t see his pod neighbors; the walls were painted deep blue for privacy. Only the rear courtyard was visible from the training pod, the glass wall offering a view of the chain-link fence and the trainee pool beyond it. It was like the pods were designed to reveal only the past, from where you’ve come from, a reminder that any day you could return.

“One-hundred meter free,” Haru told the electronic trainer.

_“Your current time is fifty-four point seven seconds. The current record is fifty-two point one seconds.”_

Haru had dived before the trainer had finished speaking.

_“Calibrate center of gravity.”_

Haru rotated his body, leveling his torso with the blue stripe on the bottom of the pool.

_“Oxygen intake: ninety-seven percent.”_

He turned his head, breathed deeply, but not enough to full his lungs to capacity.

_“Increased perspiration detected.”_

He flipped, kicked off the wall, and returned. There was momentary silence, only the sound of rushing water past his ears and the furious splash as his arms lifted out of the water.

_“Adjust arms four degrees.”_

He smacked the wall before there was time to correct his form, gasping as he came up for air. The electronic trainer had the decency to wait for him to catch his breath, providing the time required to fill his lungs and absorb the necessary oxygen.

_“Lap time: Fifty-seven point six seconds. This is two point nine seconds slower than your current record. Please implement a ninety-second recovery period and replenish fluids.”_

There was a water bottle at the end of the lane that never ran dry. The only annoying part was the tube connected to the bottom, which tugged the bottle back into place when Haru released it. He downed the cold, clean water until all sixteen ounces were gone, then set the bottle down for the automatic refill. He rested his chin on the floor, staring out the window at the tops of the trees. He could see nothing below from his angle; no chain-link fence, no trainee pool, and no intruder.

_“Recovery period complete.”_

Haru closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the cold, damp floor. He extended his arms out to his sides, stretching his fingers toward the sides of the pool. The pool itself was narrow, the size of a single lane in the trainee pool. It was just for him. It detected the day-to-day changes in his body; it alerted him when he wasn’t fit to swim. It automatically adjusted to his body temperature, neither too hot nor too cold.

_“Extended recovery time detected.”_

It was unusual for a child of twelve to graduated to his own training pod. There had been a celebration of sorts, an unveiling of his personal pod, the only time outsiders had been permitted within its walls. There had been no sweets—there was no room for sweets in an athlete’s diet, even at twelve years old—but Haru had been permitted a double portion of fish for his celebratory meal.

“Training complete,” Haru said. “Begin cool-down.”

_“Nanase, you have not completed the one-hundred meter back, one-hundred meter fly, one-hundred—”_

“Override,” Haru interrupted. “Begin cool-down.”

The overhead lights dimmed, shifting to a soft blue. The air temperature lowered fractionally, just enough to feel good on his overexterted body. Haru floated on his back, eyes closed, arms at his sides due to the limited width of the pool. He sensed the subtle shifts in water temperature, decreasing by five degrees to compensate for the air temperature. Outside, the sun had started to set, but the glass wall had dimmed to block the most offensive of its rays.

Japan’s greatest swimmers had trained in the training pods. Haru occupied one that had previously belonged to an Olympic swimmer, one who had graduated from the training program and now traveled the world. The training pods had a ninety-nine percent success rate, their swimmers placed in international races and teaching programs and Olympic winner’s podiums.

Haru slowly opened his eyes, and the overhead lights dimmed to protect his vision.

_“Emotional disbalance detected.”_

He closed his eyes again. “Override.” 

* * *

 

Haru’s cool-down lasted as long as the system allowed, then gently reminded him it was time to return home. It wasn’t like being at the trainee pool; he couldn’t stall time by packing his belongings or ignoring the lifeguard on duty. The lights over his pool promptly shut off at seven o’clock, leaving only the showerhead and the emergency light over the elevator illuminated.

He showered only because the elevator door wouldn’t open unless he did. He would go home and take a proper bath, but the shower offered the requisite cleansing of sweat and chlorine. But he did like how he could see outdoors while rinsing off; a curtain was provided, but no one could see him from the tenth story. The water shut off automatically, the heating lamp glowed red to dry him off, then the elevator doors finally slid open to permit him to return home.

Intruders weren’t stupid enough to stick around after hours. Only pod-holders were in the courtyard when Haru descended to ground level. Down there, they were almost… _normal_. They clustered in groups, or they talked on cell phones. A couple was having a picnic, complete with checkered blanket and a wicker basket. There was no outward evidence of their elevated status. They breathed easier. They smiled more. They were collectively glad to no longer be packed into the trainee pool on the other side of the fence.

No one was near the rose bushes. Haru wondered vaguely who had planted them, and whether it had been before or after the creation of the hole in the fence. He started at his phone, like there was an important message that needed his attention. He wandered toward the rose bushes, like he was meeting someone there.

He did like the rose bushes. The flowers were in full bloom, a deep red against the green leaves. From a distance it looked almost artificial, but the closer he walked the more he could smell the scent of the roses. The bush itself didn’t look like much from his training pod, but up close it towered over him and was nearly twice his width. There was little space between the bush and the fence; it would be enough to see pricks of thorns on people’s arms and legs to know the courtyard intruders. Sometimes, they were discovered and banned from the training pool for a determined amount of time. But seldom did the trainees venture much farther than this corner of the courtyard—they desired not to sneak into the training pods, or even to talk to those who occupied them. They merely wanted to look, and to wonder what went on inside those oblong pods, and to dream.

Haru wandered around the bush. From that corner of the courtyard, one could see it all—the wall of pods reaching up toward the sky, and those leaving their assigned elevators for home. The sun had already disappeared behind the building, but a faint orange glow was still cast over the courtyard.

Haru glanced at the fence. The hole wasn’t a secret, and it wasn’t small at all. A man of his size might get scratched on the ragged edges of a broken fence, but it _was_ large enough for him to fit.

He glanced back at the courtyard. No one paid him any mind; he was simply one of their own admiring the rose bush. He certainly wouldn't be thinking about the trainee pool. Swimmers with their own pods never considered life beyond the fence, nor would they have any desire to return.

He sidestepped back behind the rose bush. He reached up to cup one of the roses, in case anyone had noticed. He plucked it from the bush, then snapped the thorns off one by one. He twirled the flower between his thumb and forefinger, casting a sideways glance at the courtyard. He ducked down beneath the branches, putting himself at eye-level with the hole in the fence. No one was on the other side. The trainee pool was deserted, the trainees themselves home for the night. He gingerly slipped one leg through the hole, and then the other. He folded his body over and projected himself through, rolling onto the concrete deck beyond.

_Ow._

The last time he'd escaped he'd only been wearing jammers, and there'd been no tracksuit to snag on the jagged fence. It had tugged on his sleeve, and he'd yanked his arm back at the last second to avoid ripping the tracksuit. He rubbed his shoulder, which had landed first on the concrete, but not hard enough to cause serious injury. The electronic trainer may notice it in the morning, but that was a nagging in the back of his mind that he chose to ignore. He picked up his rose before standing, shook out his arms and legs, and stared at the vast expanse of the trainee pool.

It was darker than the courtyard, now that the sun had dipped farther behind the training pods. The lifeguard’s chair was empty, and the locker room doors bore heavy silver padlocks. The slight amount of remaining sunlight reflected over the still pool, taunting him. He'd learned, long ago, that dipping a toe or a finger or _anything_ into the water after hours would set off the alarm.

Instead, he chose a particularly shadowed area beside the pool to sit. He knew which corners were more visible from the courtyard, and which corners they would never notice. He sat cross-legged on the cold concrete, twirling the rose between his fingers. The scent of too much chlorine wafted off the pool’s surface, burning its nose with overcompensation. The lane dividers had been removed for the night, allowing the water its freedom. It, too, seemed to breathe easier, without the restriction of lanes and people telling it what to do.

“Didn’t know that fence went both ways.”

Only Haru's eyes lifted at the sound of the foreign voice. He scanned the pool deck, squinting against the dark. But then, he saw it—a shadowed mass by the entrance, which should have been locked, a distinctly human shape that leaned against the fence with crossed arms. Haru remained silent, unmoving, as the shadow approached. He continued to stare until he could make out some sort of human features.

He was both surprised to recognize the man, and not. The intruder, the one he’d watched from above mere hours ago, who’d looked so small from his elevated height. Now, he looked down at Haru, in an uncomfortable role reversal. He wasn’t small at all—his legs were muscular, and his shoulders broad. There _was_ a slight scratch on his cheek, but the blood had been cleaned away.

"Of course it does," Haru replied. “It’s a hole in a fence."

The man lowered himself down beside Haru, close enough to knock knees as he crossed his legs. He watched the rose in Haru’s hands, which he still twirled mindlessly, until a petal escaped and fluttered to the water’s surface. Haru froze for a moment, fearing the alarm would sound, but the weightlessness of the petal merely drifted away from them until it was little but a formless shadow on the water.

“What’s the point of coming over here?” the man asked.

Haru leaned closer to the water. If he looked hard enough, he could see the hint of reflection on the surface. The pool was only six feet deep, but there was no indication of the bottom at all. No stripes, no lane dividers, no hint that the bottom was within reaching distance.

“What’s the point of going over there?” Haru asked the water.

The guy scoffed. “What’s the point? Guys _dream_ of going over there. Guess you wouldn’t know that.”

Haru sat up. “What?”

His mouth quirked into a smile. “Think I don’t know who you are? The great Haruka Nanase, trainee graduate at the age of twelve?” He pointed toward the towering pods on the other side of the fence; Haru didn’t have to ask to know exactly where he was pointing. “Number ten thirty? You know you’re already on the National Team list, right? You don’t even have to try out.”

Haru blinked at him impassively. “I’m not joining.”

“Like hell you’re not!” The man stood up suddenly, so quickly that Haru nearly tumbled into the pool in surprise. He propelled himself backward, forearms scraping against the concrete in a desperate attempt to avoid the alarms over the water. The man didn't help—he hardly even noticed Haru's flailing—as he pointed an accusatory finger down at him. “You can’t just _not_ join when there are guys out there who have to _work_ to get where you are!”

Haru's forearms stung against the concrete. He frowned and grit his teeth, watching the color rise in the man’s face. He lifted himself up slowly, pausing to allow the stinging in his arms to pass. When he rose to standing, he was pleased to see they were nearly the same height. He met the guy's steely gaze, an anger that was already beginning to fade now that they were on even ground. Haru could still hear idle chatter on the other side of the fence, trainers who still hadn’t left for home. His voice was steady when he spoke. “If you care so much, why are you still over _here_?”

As fast as the guy’s face had reddened, it lost all its color. The traces of sunlight left reflected off the whiteness of his cheeks. Haru wanted to regret the words, and he wanted to throw more at him. He clenched his hands into fists.

 _We don’t ask for it_ , he thought. _I didn’t ask for it_. Haru stood up straighter. It didn't make him any taller, but he felt stronger. He resented the power that coursed through him: a training pod owner over this nameless trainee. He didn't owe this guy an explanation.

But the guy's voice softened. "You don't even want it." He ran a hand through his hair, which was an obvious ploy to wipe the tears that gathered in his eyes. He looked away. “Unbelievable.”

Haru stared at the ground. He’d dropped the rose in the commotion, and it now floated away in the pool. His thornless rose, swimming away from him, gliding on the surface. He wondered if flowers could drown.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. He didn’t look at the guy as he turned away, back toward the training pods where he belonged. He heard one step, one meager attempt to stop him, until the only footsteps were his own. He didn’t bother to check if anyone watched him climb back through the fence. The courtyard had mostly cleared out, with some people gathered at the front entrance saying their last goodbyes for the night. He thought to turn around, to see if the guy still stood there, but instead stared at the training pods as he crossed the courtyard for home.

* * *

The system had been perfect when put into place. _Training pods_ , specifically designed for each swimmer, a single-lane pool modified for optimal training. They were for those whose aim was professionalism, those who required one-on-one training to create the ultimate swimmer. Haru’s fate had been sealed for him at twelve years old, when he’d unintentionally surpassed the times of those already in the pods. He hadn’t been training. He’d liked the trainee pool; it was clean, and there was a lot of space. He’d been vaguely aware of the meaning behind his own pod, more aware that it meant he could have a place to swim where no one would bother him.

He spent more time in the pod than at home, following the droning voice of the electronic trainer. It didn’t take long for him to learn how to turn it off—one night, when he was thirteen, he’d discovered the electrical panel. It was a fluke that the elevator still worked when he cut the power, though it would’ve been a safety hazard if the elevators had ever shut down. But when he pod was powered down, it recorded nothing. There was no light, and no electronic trainer. There was only Haru, and the moonlight, and the water.

He returned home just long enough to eat dinner. The meal plan wasn’t terrible, even if it didn’t include as much fish as he’d have liked. The beef that night was virtually tasteless, though the vegetables in garlic sauce made up for it. At least he could cook for himself, even if the groceries were portionally pre-packaged. But they were fresh. He never had a bad herb or a rotten vegetable in his daily deliveries, not that he was paying much attention to the freshness of his food that evening.

Haru wanted to return to his training pod. His _own_ time at his pod, without the electronic trainer and the constant reminders to “calibrate his center of gravity” and drink plenty of fluids. He forced himself not to eat too quickly, only because he’d be too bloated to swim. He dunked a piece of meat in garlic sauce as he thumbed through his tablet. Haru appeared twice in today’s issue of _Swimmer’s World_ : Nanase’s time drops two point nine seconds. (He grumbled.) Prospective National Team member, Nanase Haruka.

 _You know you’re already on the National Team list, right?_ He wondered where that guy got his information, not that he doubted it was right. He realized he'd never learned the guy's name, wondering how if he ever appeared in  _Swimmer's World_. He didn't know if older trainees ever appeared in the magazine at all.

He powered down the tablet and dumped his dishes in the washer. His stomach was still heavy with undigested food as he locked the front door behind him. 

* * *

 It had been easier to disable the power when he was smaller. The space behind his elevator tube was cramped, even for someone with a slim swimming physique. But he knew the location of his training pod’s power supply by touch alone, trailing the lightly embossed _1030_ with his fingertips to find the catch to open the door. It was so stupid—it was just a switch. A very well-hidden switch, but still just a switch. He waited for the last hum of electricity to fade before slipping out from his hiding spot. He pressed his palm to the handprint screen, but it wasn’t until the elevator doors slid open to his recognition that he realized he wasn’t alone.

He hadn’t been followed—nothing like that. His guest wasn’t even looking at him, and probably hadn’t noticed Haru was there. But it was _that guy_. Standing by the rose bush, not even looking at the training pods. He was twirling a rose between his fingertips, staring at it like he was hypnotized. Haru’s elevator door closed while he was still standing outside it, but in its emptiness didn't ascend. The still-digesting meal churned in his belly. He watched the guy bury his nose in the flower, then close his eyes as he inhaled. Haru looked up at the tower of training pods. He looked at the dull up-arrow of his elevator, waiting for him. Then he crossed the courtyard.

“Hey.”

The guy looked up, eyes wide in surprise, dropping his rose in the process. He backed up against the chain-link fence, rattling it just enough that it echoed over the silent courtyard.

“What are _you_ doing here?” the guy asked, as if Haru were the only one out of place.

Haru stared at the discarded rose. All flowers looked the same to him, but the thorns had been picked off this one. He couldn’t figure out if it was missing some petals, or if the flower had been saturated with chlorine. He looked back up and the guy was still frozen again the fence, his fingers curled around the links.

Haru tilted his head. “Want to come up?”

He received only a blank stare at first. But then he glanced up at the highest of the training pods. “Are you _crazy_?”

He shrugged. “I shut down the power. It doesn’t know I’m here.”

He glared at Haru, then back up at the pod. His fingers slowly uncurled from the fence. “Sure. Yeah, all right.” He stood up straight, and he grinned. “The name’s Rin.”

* * *

 

The elevator was cramped; the training pods were designed for one. Haru wished they’d stood back to back instead, but he was stuck staring at the guy’s ear as they traveled up to the highest floor.

“It’s kinda dark,” Rin said, when he extracted himself out of the elevator.

“I told you there’s no power,” Haru replied.

“Then how’d the elevator work?”

He shrugged. “It just does.”

Haru stood back as Rin took a slow walk of the pod. The single-lane pool was fifty meters, and the pod itself did not extend much farther than that. Rin trailed his fingers along the wall as he walked, the sides smooth as glass. He stopped at the window and looked down at the courtyard, and at the trainee pool beyond the fence. He investigated the shower stall, and the supplied soap and shampoo, even though the automatic amenities were off the grid. He stared into the crystal clarity of the pool, the water shimmering slightly when he dipped a finger into it.

“You can swim,” Haru said.

“Why?” But Rin was already peeling off his clothes. Haru didn’t bother looking away, knowing there would be jammers beneath the tracksuit. “Why’d you bring me up here?”

For the first time since they'd arrived at the pod, Haru averted his eyes. He started at the non-functioning shower stall instead. “Rin Matsuoka,” he said, finally matching the name to a face. “You transferred from Sano.”

Rin sat at the edge of the pool. Haru knew the water would be cold, with the lack of body temperature sensors. Rin wouldn’t know the difference.

“You trained in Australia,” Haru remembered. He’d been all over _Swimming World_ —Rin Matsuoka, son of Toraichi Matsuoka, living his late father’s Olympic dream. There had been daily updates in the magazine when he'd moved to Australia, and then weekly, and then they'd all forgotten the name at all.

Rin slid into the pool. He moved into the very center, stretching his arms out to the side the same as Haru had the first time he’d swam in the pod. Gauging the size of the pool. Wondering if he’d swim into the sides, but knowing the electronic trainer would alert him if he were going to.

“I shouldn’t have left, right?” Rin said. From Haru’s perspective, he was little but a head floating above water. “It’s harder for transfers to get up here.”

Haru didn’t have a chance to answer, even if he could've thought of something to say. Rin had dunked underwater and flew into a flutter kick, emerging into the most graceful front crawl he had ever seen. He’d thought Rin to be too bulky and muscular to swim that fast, but he swam like he weighed nothing at all. His flip turn was clean, and he didn’t stagger in his return. When he came up, he gasped and pushed the wet hair back from his eyes.

“They don’t give pods to guys who don’t improve for two years,” Rin said.

Haru sat on the floor. After sitting on the concrete at the trainee pool, his own tiled floor was too artificial. He tried to lean back, but his hands slid on the polished tile. He leaned his arms on his knees instead. “I go back,” Haru said, “because I like it better.”

“Than this?” Rin waved a hand at the entirety of the pod.

Haru nodded. “I just want to swim.”

Rin pulled himself out of the pool. He wasn’t successful on the first try, with the slippery tiles at the edge rather than the concrete he was used to. Haru thought to extend a hand to help, but he hoisted himself out on the second try and slid back away from the water. “So swim.”

“But—”

“I want to see you swim.”

The training pod’s air purifier wasn’t running. There was no artificial circulation, nothing to gauge optimal temperature. There was no air quality monitor, nor water temperature sensor. There was no gentle reminder that Haru had not waited long enough after eating to swim. He shucked off his tracksuit, and didn’t put on a swim cap. He mounted the starting block, staring down at his own personal lane that shimmered with the disruption of someone else’s body. Rin stood leaned against the curved wall, arms crossed, dripping his foreign, sweaty pool water onto the floor. Haru side-eyed him, caught the mischievous smirked, and then dived.

Goosebumps flared up on his arms and legs, the water unmatched to his body temperature. He pushed himself across the pool, the cold propelling him faster. He heard only the sound of the water, uninterrupted by the electronic trainer. He swam without correction or gentle guidance. He waited too long to flip, but there was nothing to make comment. His oxygen intake was optimal, his lungs filling with each deep breath. He was panting at the end, momentarily jarred by how quiet the pod was without the electronic reminder of his time and his progress.

“Fifty-four point three,” Rin said. “Not bad.” He was crouching by the pool now, holding out his watch to present the digital display to Haru. A _watch_ , Haru thought with surprise. A timekeeper maintained by a human being who had watched him swim. Who had calculated his speed manually.

Haru blinked at the display.

He wasn’t prone to laughter, but the rumbling in his belly was not the result of his recent meal. He turned away from Rin, covering his mouth, trying to contain it. But the trembling of his shoulders gave him away, and Rin slid around to the other side of the pool to face him again.

“What’s so funny?” Rin asked. “It’s a good time.”

Haru turned away from him again. He pretending to cough, if only to conceal the escaping laughter. “Yeah.” He splashed his face with the cold pool water. “It’s good.” 

* * *

 

The electronic trainer would know right away that Haru didn’t sleep well. He was ready for its soothing attempt at punishment, the gentle reminder that professional swimmers were to get eight hours of uninterrupted sleep daily for optimal performance. He yawned as he approached the training pods with the other stragglers, swimmers who had gone out the previous night or who had simply overslept. They nodded to one another in silent acknowledgement, a camaraderie in being the slackers who were out too late or didn’t sleep well or simply ignored the eight o’clock alarm.

He hadn’t expected to see Rin in the courtyard, but that didn’t stop him from looking. Haru lingered outside the training pods—he was already late, so it made little difference—but there wasn't even a sound yet from the trainee pool. It was still early, and they had no required schedule. Rin could wake when he wanted, and swim when he wanted. Haru frowned and pressed his palm to the handprint screen.

The elevator welcomed him as usual, cocooning him inside its glass enclosure for the slow ascension. It seemed spacious now that Haru was alone inside. It was too narrow to extend both arms outward, but there was space enough if he stood to one side and reached for the other. Space for both his arms, or for another person.

He was stretching his arms overhead when the elevator door slid open. The training pod’s lights illuminated when he stepped onto the familiar tile, casting the pod in artificial sunlight. In the morning, it had an orange hue to mimic the sunrise. Like he was swimming amidst the clouds, no pod obstructing his view of nature.

_“Unregistered user detected. Initiating emergency lockdown.”_

Haru's fingers froze around the zipper of his jacket. The purified, temperature-controlled air was suddenly too cold. “Override.”

_“Override denied.”_

He whipped around to the elevator. The doors had already closed tight, sending the elevator back down to ground level to wait for the authorities. The handprint screen was flashing an uncommon red. Haru managed to unzip the jacket, the room suddenly too hot as he pulled it off. “You can’t deny my override,” he said.

_“Override denied.”_

The air in the room shifting from hot to cold to hot again, a desperate attempt to match his body temperature. He was sweating; he was shivering. He nearly tripped on his discarded jacket on his way to the pool, kicking it aside when he almost slid across the pool deck.

_“Emergency lockdown complete. Authorities have been notified.”_

Haru dug the heels of his hands into the starting block, trying to regain his balance. He was lightheaded. The pod’s air temperature had finally regulated, and he hardly felt the sheen of hot sweat on his back. There had been no audible alarm, but if asked later he’d claim to not remember. He could only remember someone else swimming laps in his pool, practically a complete stranger, littering the training pod with his unauthorized skin cells and foreign sweat and his laughter that had kept Haru up all night. He sat down slowly, straddling the starting block as he faced the pool. The crystal clarity of the pool was such that, in its stillness, one marveled that it even contained water. But as Haru stared downward, hands curled around the edges of the starting block, there was no mistaking that the pool had been completely drained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided at the last minute to do RH week this year (I didn't think I'd have time...) so the conclusion is forthcoming!
> 
> (chapter is [here](http://ellereanwrites.tumblr.com/post/148849855348) on tumblr.)


	2. Chapter 2

Rin stretched his arms overhead as he stepped out onto the trainee pool deck. It was a good day for training: the sky cloudless, and the sun just shy of too hot. He wasn’t surprised to find the pool crowded, but it was the type of day he didn’t mind waiting his turn for a lane. The deck was packed with trainees, stretching as they waited or talking to one another after completing their turns. They weren’t shy about staring at the training pods, the stacks of cylindrical pods in the distance that looked so small from so far away. He knew that they wondered what they were like, if they were anything like the training manuals they studied in preparation. They’d seen the pods only in oversized glossy prints, boasting the features for optimal training. Or photographs would appear occasionally in _Swimming World_ , when there were improvements to the pods and features they could only dream of trying out for themselves.

Rin smirked. The training pods were better than the ones dreamed of in their imaginations. The purified air was crisper, and the pool’s water clearer than any they’d ever seen. To look down at Iwatobi from the tenth floor was like seeing the entire world—for a moment, Rin could imagine that the trainee pool wasn’t his home. From that distance, he _felt_ that he belonged in the training pods. He felt that the space outside the enclosure was no longer for him.

It was an emotion he shouldn’t have felt, one that his evening scan should’ve picked up on. As he lay in bed, the sensors in the mattress had only picked up on his elevated heart rate. He had undergone the breathing exercises, not uncommon for one who spent so long in the pool. It didn’t register the heightened awareness, and couldn’t detect the images he saw when he closed his eyes for sleep.

Now, Rin shook the image from his mind, not that it had any effect. He snapped on his swim cap. He tucked in the wayward strands of hair around his ears. He’d expected to be mildly annoyed during the day’s training session by whatever the hell had happened the night prior, distracted by the cleanliness of the pod's pool and that prodigy child. Rin let out a slow breath, his body warmed not by the sun but by the memory of squeezing together in a glass elevator intended for one. He still felt the warmth of Haruka Nanase’s breath on his shoulder.

He’d anticipated the distraction of Haruka Nanase as he swam. But, as he scanned the pool deck, he hadn’t expected that distraction to be because Haruka Nanase was right there.

This was no late-night sneaking through the fence—he sat on the concrete deck in broad daylight, pouting as he stared at the pool. Perhaps he was mesmerized by the steady back-and-forth of the swimmers, or perhaps he was looking past them into the water itself. Perhaps he was looking at nothing at all, unfocused on whatever or whomever was in front of him. He spoke to no one, and no one spoke to him. Rin wasn’t the only one to notice him, either; it wasn’t like Haruka’s face was a secret. Other trainees stared at him, whispering as they waited their turn for the pool. When laps were completed, swimmers were not subtle about turning around to look as they removed their swim caps. Rin shifted his weight from foot to foot. He glanced at the growing line of swimmers waiting for the pool. He glanced back to Haruka. Then, he sighed.

His approach wasn’t a surprise; Haruka didn’t look up even when Rin blocked his sunlight. His body cast a shadow over his face, and the only evidence that Haruka noticed was he squinted a little less in the shade. He switched from sitting cross-legged to hugging his legs, resting his chin on the dip between his knees.

“Haruka?”

Haruka pointedly looked away. Rin clenched and unclenched his fists, having nothing to keep his hands occupied. His scalp was already sweating beneath his swim cap; he snapped the strap of his goggles for something to do. He didn’t look around, but sensed the curious gazes landing on him now instead. That old trainee. The transfer.

Rin let out a frustrated breath, then sat down beside him.

The view from the ground was an odd perspective on the pool—the swimmers were closer, and their forms and faults magnified. Haruka didn’t say anything, and for a moment Rin didn’t either. It wasn’t terrible to sit beside Haruka Nanase, sharing his space like they were friends, or at least more than acquaintances who’d met by chance a total of twice.

He closed his eyes. He still said nothing, because there was nothing adequate _to_ say, nothing to describe the awe and nerves that battled in the forefront of his memory. With his eyes closed, he felt the heat of the sunshine more. The splash of the water was amplified, mingled with the murmur of distant conversation. He felt the weight of Haruka at his side, close enough to touch if either of them shifted. And he sensed when Haruka let out a slow breath, like the meditative breathing Rin forced himself to try before sleeping the previous night.

When Rin’s eyes snapped open, Haruka still sat hugging his knees. But now he was staring straight at Rin, his mouth unsmiling and his eyes drooping like he, too, hadn’t slept.

Rin opened his mouth to speak, but then someone passed in front of them. The girl walked slowly, and Rin wished she’d hurry up and stop staring at Haruka. He instinctively scooted closer. Rin didn’t look up at the girl, and neither did Haruka. But that subtle shift that brought their bodies closer together made the girl finally pick up speed, leaving wet footprints behind on the concrete.

Rin kept his voice low when he finally spoke. “Why are you over here?”

Haruka didn’t move, and his facial expression didn’t change. He looked overexposed in the daylight, even though his pale skin was concealed by his dark blue tracksuit. It wasn’t that he looked out of place—Rin didn’t think Haruka Nanase could look out of place by the water—but he stood out. Like the whiteness of a new pair of sneakers tossed into a pile of old ones. Or one clean streak on a dirty window. Or that one swimmer with the perfect form, who wasn’t any faster or slower than the rest, who was brighter somehow like the sun shone only on him.

Haruka stared at the ground.

There was something about Haruka’s downcast eyes, and how he pulled his knees in closer to make himself smaller. Rin turned toward the training pods. Pod number 1030, at the top of its row, was dark. He hadn’t noticed earlier when he’d arrived. He wondered if the pod’s lights only went on when the occupant was present. He wondered if Haruka had shut it down, an act he’d claimed to only do at night, or . . .

“C’mon.” Rin pushed himself off the ground. He brushed concrete dust off the seat of his swimsuit. Haruka looked up at him, eyes widened in surprise, as Rin extended a hand down to him. “You shared your secrets, so I’ll share mine.” 

* * *

 

Rin told himself it was like any other walk home. He replayed the explanation in his head over and over again, in case they were stopped—They had met at the pool. Haruka was coming over for lunch. It had been an accurate truth in the past, with others. With Sousuke; with Nagisa. It was a simple explanation, just vague enough to be believable as he walked home with Haruka Nanase. It was almost too early for lunch, with the sun not yet reaching its peak in the sky. _A good morning training session_ , Rin mentally explained to no one, a lie that would go undetected. _His_ times weren’t recorded in _Swimming World_.

He side-eyed Haruka. He hadn’t said anything since they left the pool, not that Rin had pressed him to talk. He’d obediently followed, questioning neither why they were leaving nor where Rin intended to take him. He only shuffled his feet, hands pushed deep into his pants pockets, his jacket zipped all the way up to cover his chin and mouth. But he watched: Up at the trees towering over them. Down at the stream as they crossed the stone bridge. And, between it all, at Rin. Like he was searching for confirmation, or answers, or something more that Rin couldn’t supply.

“Here we are,” Rin said.

It wasn’t the first time that he’d stood outside his family’s home with a friend. Everyone knew Mama Matsuoka; he’s invited over many fellow swimmers for dinner over the years without informing her first. But she never complained—she’d set an extra place setting, happy to have four around the dinner table again. But now, with the sun still high in the sky, no one would be waiting for them to eat. His mother worked; his sister was at school. It was just Rin, and the silent boy beside him, who hadn’t stopped staring up at the two-story house before them.

“C’mon,” Rin said. “We’ll go ’round the back.”

Rin smiled as he took the lead. It was instinct that made him reach for Haruka’s hand, like they were schoolboys who needed the mutual guidance. The cold shot up through his arm, the delayed realization that he _shouldn’t have done that_. Haruka’s hand felt lifeless, barely reciprocating the squeeze that Rin had offered. Rin immediately dropped his hand, wiping the clammy sweat on his pants.

But there was only indifference in Haruka’s expression, or maybe a mild confusion. Or boredom. As striking as his eyes were in the glare of the sun, they revealed nothing. Haruka looked away, back toward the Matsuoka residence.

Rin huffed and headed for the path that lead to the rear of the house.

Haruka didn’t follow.

Rin spun around, staring at Haruka's small form in the distance. “Let’s go, Haruka!”

The slight twitch of annoyance was better than the bored indifference, producing a twang of guilt that Rin tried to push down. “It’s Haru,” Haruka replied.

“Huh?” Rin threw up his arms. “Fine. _Haru_. Are you coming?”

He glanced over his left shoulder, then his right. His gaze bored into Rin's soul. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can!” Rin swept an arm toward his house. “It’s just my house. We’re not going out of bounds, I promise.”

Iwatobi’s borders meant little to people like Haruka Nanase— _Haru_ , Rin mentally corrected—with their freedom and necessity to travel between the prefectures. Professional swimmers needed to cross town lines to compete; trainees were corralled until they’d reached that same level of professionalism. There was some humor about it as Haru’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, an amusement that someone like himself would care about borders. But by the time Haru joined him under the shadow of his house, any trace of a smile had vanished.

Rin smiled in his stead, and kept on walking.

“I guess it’s not really a secret,” he said to fill the silence. “But my sister and I came back here all the time when we were kids.” Rin pushed aside a low-hanging branch, waiting for Haru to pass through before jogging to take the lead again. “Dad was a fisherman, and he made this little shortcut so he didn’t have to go all the way around to the ocean. We'd follow him to work a lot.”

The path was narrower than he remembered, hardly wide enough for them to walk side by side. Haru fell back to follow, and Rin listened to the soft crunch of gravel and leaves behind him. The shrubbery was overgrown; Rin pushed aside the most offensive bushes, caring more that Haru wasn’t nicked by wayward branches or thorns. When he glanced over his shoulder, he caught Haru staring off into the woods like there was something out there that caught his eye.

“Do you go to the ocean a lot?” Rin asked. He stepped over a protruding boulder.

There was a pause, and then, “No.”

“Then you’ll love this.”

The path shifted from uneven dirt to the soft ground of the sand, the two intermingled the closer they walked to shore. More and more Rin checked over his shoulder, and more often than not Haru was staring at the ground. He kicked around a little of the gritty sand; he paused briefly to scoop some up into his hand. It sieved through his fingers as they walked, leaving him with only the largest pebbles balanced between his fingers. He brushed his palms together and then wiped them on the sides of his pants, leaving faint dirty streaks.

Even if Rin hadn’t been leading, he would’ve made sure he was when they reached the end. He pushed aside a branch, stepped aside, and allowed Haru to step onto the beachside first.

Haru froze. He squinted against the sunlight, shielding his eyes as they grew accustomed to unobstructed light. As much as Rin wanted to keep talking, he allowed the sight before them to speak for itself: the stretch of clean, nearly-white sand. The glittering blue ocean beyond. The water was dotted with fishing boats, both at dock and far out in the water. If he listened, Rin could hear the gentle banter of fishermen as they shouted to one another across the expanse.

Haru lowered his hand, and he stared. His mouth fell open in surprise. He looked away from his host; Rin didn’t think the slight blush on his cheeks was from the warmth of the sun alone.

“Rin.” He spoke without turning around, as if he spoke to the empty dock on the far side of the shore. “My pod is closed.”

The grin fell from Rin’s face. “Huh?”

“Unregistered user.”

It was Rin’s turn to look away, gritting his teeth. He had endless space to swim; the trainee pool was his to claim, and the ocean was his whenever he wanted. He’d been too eager to see, following Haru to his training pod without thinking. Cramming into that elevator together. Viewing it all from up high, the seemingly small pool where he’d belonged, and the fence that cut him off from the courtyard he’d snuck into countless times. Just to pretend he belonged there beneath the shadow of the training pods. Impatient.

Rin raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Haru; I didn’t know—”

“Your dad was a fisherman,” he interrupted.

Rin stared out at the ocean in the opposite direction that Haru did, past the fishing docks, the water stretching out toward the next town. Over the years he’d thought of Sano less and less, until it was little more than a mere annoyance in the back of his mind. _I shouldn’t have left_ , he’d told Haru the previous day, somewhat in jest.

“My father trained here in Iwatobi,” Rin said. The sand shifted beneath them as Haru turned toward him, listening. “He had his own training pod, you know? Number 920.” He smiled, like the memory was his own: his father’s stories of training, and the beauty of Iwatobi from up high in his pod. He hadn’t been lying, Rin knew now. “So, well . . . when he died, obviously that pod was destined to be mine.”

He stiffened when Haru took his hand. It wasn’t clammy anymore, but warmed by the sun and the salty ocean air. Or else that warmth emanated from Rin himself, as Haru’s fingers slipped between his. It was Rin’s turn for his hand to go slack, but Haru squeezed in response.

“Listen,” Rin said, “I didn’t mean for . . .” He frowned. “Is it closed . . . forever? You can go back, right?”

Haru’s brows knitted, like he didn’t understand the question or its importance. “Can we go in the water now?” he asked.

The beachside wasn’t deserted, as Rin had hoped in the middle of the day. It was dotted with young families, with mothers introducing toddlers to the water and fathers building sand castles along the shore. They paid no mind to the two who emerged from seemingly nowhere, for which Rin was glad—certainly someone would’ve recognized Haru, if they paid attending to swimming news at all. He’d skimmed through _Swimming World_ the previous night, where Haru’s name jumped out at him like it was bolded in extra-large font. Fifty-seven point six seconds yesterday, he’d read, Haru’s last freestyle lap on file. He couldn’t remember exactly what the time had been when he’d clocked Haru in after hours, but it definitely wasn’t a pathetic fifty-seven seconds.

Haru reached the shoreline first, after dumping his tracksuit into an unkempt pile. He stood amongst the toddlers, the water tickling their toes as they got used to the frigid ocean. While the children around him squealed, Haru remained silent as usual. Rin was almost used to his silence now, not that he understood it. He piled his clothes with Haru’s, the red and blues mingled together in the sand. Rin dumped his sneakers atop it all to weigh it down.

It was unlikely that Haru was waiting for him, but Rin hurried to join him just in case. Haru was ankle-deep in the water, the tide coming in higher each time it lapped his feet. He watched the fishing boats in the distance, staring out to where the water met the sky. Rin exhaled slowly, then kicked his feet as he splashed into the ocean. He smiled wider when Haru followed.

Haru didn’t speak again until they were neck-deep in the water, far from the docks and prying ears of bystanders. He was still quiet, compared to the way his voice had echoed in the confines of the training pod. “Why are you helping me?” he asked.

Rin ran both wet hands through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. “Why’d _you_ help _me_?”

Haru turned away, looking back out over the horizon.

“I don’t know,” Rin replied. He swam around to meet Haru face to face; it was a small victory that Haru hadn’t turned away again. “This is where I come when nothing’s going right. Figured it would help you, too.”

Haru sank down into the water, just enough that he could still breathe thought his nose. But his eyes softened around the edges, giving away the smile he couldn't see. Rin reached for his hand beneath the water, and this time they both held on tight.

They didn’t swim. They were situated between the fishing boats and the squealing toddlers, hovering near the buoys that dictated how far they could go. Haru faced the horizon; Rin faced him. They were out past the breaking waves, but the water rocked them as it crested toward the shore. Under the cover of the waters, Rin took Haru’s other hand. It completed their circle, nothing but the water between them, and even that space grew smaller as Haru treaded closer. Rin felt the wake of Haru’s feet beneath the water, the slight ripples as he tread water.

“It’s a week,” Haru said, a belayed reply. Rin let out a sigh of relief. “It has to be purified. I forgot. But I”—he looked away, but then back at Rin—“would’ve done it anyway.”

“ _Why?_ ” Rin shook his head. “I don’t get you, Nanase. You have everything a guy like me wants.”

“Really?” Haru tilted his head back to the sky. He looked down into the water, where the hazy reflection of their legs was just visible. He made a point of looking past Rin, at the fishing boats and the endless expanse of water. “You don’t want this instead?”

It had been two days, and already Rin was mirroring his habits. He looked away, telling himself it was to see the water as Haru saw it. But Rin didn’t need convincing to understand the freedom of the ocean—how he came here whenever he needed to, and could swim unobstructed, or just sit on the shore and watch the way the sun shone off the water. When his family had first moved to Iwatobi, he’d spend hours sitting on a dock and staring out at the water. He’d wait for his father’s boat to return to the empty dock, imagining them swimming side by side around the entire world.

Rin was so consumed with the enormity of the ocean that he didn’t notice at first when Haru released his hands. He didn’t notice the boat that had crept up behind them, hovering at his field of vision. It was Haru’s sudden movement that jerked him back to the present, how he pushed himself backward and stared up at the looming vessel.

It wasn’t a large boat—it held only three people, but it was motorized, which was enough to set him off. Though Haru had backed away from him, Rin reached to grab his hand again. The woman at the prow was dressed in white, an ankle-length linen coat open over a lightweight summer suit. It wasn’t suitable for ocean travel, but her exaggerated frown was proof enough that ocean travel had not been on her agenda for that afternoon.

“This is new,” she said, shielding her eyes to the glaring sun. “An unauthorized visitor, and now a tryst during your probation? If we hadn’t already detected _who_ your visitor was, I’d be surprised to find you with this _trainee_.”

 _“Probation?!”_ Rin whipped toward Haru, ignoring the woman glaring at him.

“I said I couldn't come,” Haru replied.

“You didn’t tell me about any _probation_!”

The woman massaged her temple. “Sasabe, please retrieve Nanase. I can’t listen to their lovers’ squabble anymore.”

“We’re not _lovers_!” Rin sputtered.

One of the men rose from his seat, his massive forearms crossed over his chest. “Aye aye, cap’n!”

As the color both rose and drained from Rin’s cheeks, and as Sasabe was diving into the ocean, Haru yanked him closer and kissed him full on the mouth.

“Not lovers?” the woman said, but her voice was watery and distant in Rin’s ears.

Haru’s hand was wretched free from his. He pressed his lips together to suppress a smile, even as his hands were pulled behind his back. There was a glimpse of metal from Sasabe's hands that disappeared just as quickly beneath the water, some sort of device to bind Haru's wrists. This Sasabe wasn’t rough with him, but that didn’t alleviate Rin’s anger. He turned sharply to the woman who still stood at the boat, staring down at them. His lips still tingled, but he forced them to move and to speak.

“Did you ever think to ask what _he_ wants?” Rin shouted.

The woman lifted one perfectly-sculpted eyebrow. “Oh?”

Rin tried not to watch what happened behind her; the other half of her brute force was roughly lifting Haru out of the water by his armpits. “Watch his head!” Sasabe yelled, as Haru tumbled into the boat. Rin tried to peek inside, but the prow was too high. There was a glimpse of glossy black hair, and then one of the men blocked his view. The motor was running idly, keeping them suspended in place, and keeping Rin far from the side of the boat. He furiously kicked as he tread water, gritting his teeth.

The woman glanced over her shoulder, and then back down at Rin in the water. “He seems fine now.” The motor sprang to life again, whirring noisily in the water. It threw Rin back enough for the boat to turn around, its wake splashing him in the face. “I suggest you return to your training, Matsuoka.”

The man Sasabe had moved back to the stern, allowing Rin a full view of their cargo. Though Haru’s hands were secured behind his back, he sat upright. Proud, maybe. He was facing forward, his mouth set in a hard line. But as the boat sailed back for shore, he looked out at the water.

It was a casual glance, one that anyone would do when sitting atop a boat. The ocean was a sight to see, with its glittering water that stretched out farther than the human eye could detect. But though Haru’s head was tilted upward, he was looking down into the water. Looking straight at Rin, who looked back up at him with pleading eyes, silently crying out _What can I do?_

But Haru smiled. Rin saw the full of that smile now—not just the softening of his eyes but the gentle upward curve of his lips, those same lips that still left his tingling. Rin touched his lips, which were slightly chapped from the salty air. The boat was too far away now, but Rin liked to think Haru was still smiling as he turned his gaze back toward the shore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone who read this in the first thirty minutes of it being published, as I hit "post now" rather than "save" and you all got to see typos galore :D
> 
> (chapter is [here](http://ellereanwrites.tumblr.com/post/149573472253) on tumblr.)


	3. Chapter 3

There are flaws in even the most flawless of systems. Haru would blame it on his parents—or perhaps, _thank_ his parents—for their extended absences, leaving their only child to fend for himself in his automated sphere. Twelve years old, then thirteen, testing the limits of unseen security. Setting off alarms more often than not, claiming ignorance: He needed fresh air. He wanted to swim. He couldn’t sleep.

But his options were limited. The front and rear doors locked promptly at ten o’clock for his “safety,” not to open again until seven a.m. The windows detected anything larger than a leaf of paper fluttering through, despite Haru’s expertise at removing the screens. But the flaw was almost embarrassing, for those who had overlooked it—for if he never went inside, it wouldn’t be obvious that he left.

The meal plan dictated fish for dinner, an irony he couldn’t overlook after being exported from the ocean. The night was pleasant, providing a good excuse to eat outdoors. Haru sat cross-legged on the patio, the small backyard protected by the shade of trees and the wooden fence surrounding it. He’d changed into a clean, dry swimsuit before preparing dinner, which he now wore beneath his casual clothes. The jeans were stiff from the dryer, nothing like the warm-up suit he often wore. He tried to ignore the persistent strain around his thighs as he ate, which was easier to ignore than everything else.

 _You’re to remain home for the next two days_ , Amakata had said. _Then we will review your probation again._

He angrily pushed a piece of fish into his mouth, angry even more that he wasn’t enjoying it. He scooped at the remains of rice in his bowl, only to discover the bowl was empty. His stomach growled in protest. He shoved aside his tray and lay out on the patio, folding his hands on his stomach like a corpse. At least the patio had been warmed by the sun, its heat soaking into the back of his T-shirt.

Haru closed his eyes and was instinctively conscious of his elevated heartbeat, though there was nothing to detect it. On the patio, barefoot in his common clothes, there was no tracker. There were no sensors threaded through his clothing, and no mattress beneath him to monitor anything. He focused on his breathing, trusting his body to fall into the sleep he’d need for the evening. Also to pass time—he spend the next several hours on the patio, after all.

But he didn’t sleep. Though there were no sensors there to sound, their reprimands still echoed in his head: _elevated heart rate_. _Foreign matter detected_. _Initiate breathing exercises_. But no exercises would be enough. This was similar to the heightened awareness of land training, after running five miles by oceanside. It was like breaking a personal freestyle record, coming up from the water gasping for air. It was kissing a boy in the middle of the ocean, who tasted like the ocean personified, like it were possible to kiss the water itself.

It had been worth it to see the utter shock on Amakata’s face, and the way her brutes froze for a half-second before jumping into action.

One bare foot dangled over the edge of the deck. A light breeze tickled his toes and fluttered the hair that fell over his closed eyes. A whiff of the ocean lingered on his skin. The ocean had its own means of purification, a purity that was nothing like the recycled air of his training pod. It was natural. It was clean, unmarred by steel and the droning voice of an electronic trainer. He wished he _did_ have the sensors beneath him now to praise his small victories, because he finally started to relax.

 

* * *

 

For all the house’s security measures—and additional measures, for a minor to live alone—his parents had overlooked the yard itself. Upon waking, it took Haru a split-second to remember why he was dozing on the patio. The yard was surrounded by an old-fashioned wooden fence, secured with a wooden door and wooden latch. It was connected to neither sensors nor monitors, only the solid dirt beneath it.

Haru sat up and stretched his arms overhead, yawning. The world was cast in a blue glow, the last traces of daylight before it would descend into nightfall. He glanced at the house up the hill, the one with the single window that had a view into his yard. It was the only potential flaw in his plan, but that one window was dark. His neighbors were asleep for the night, or at least tucked into bed and not spying on runaways.

He slipped a hand into his pocket. Haru wished he had a good-luck charm, or anything small and sentimental that would fit in the pocket of his jeans. He wished he had some remnant of Rin, a means of guiding him. Instead, he clenched his hand into a fist. He crept to the gate, though there was no one to see nor hear him. Then he silently flipped the wooden latch.

The night was soothingly quiet, which would’ve been optimal circumstances for sleep. When Haru slept with his window open, the rustling leaves and chirping insects provided just the comfort needed. But those sounds helped little now, his blood pounding in his veins as he crept down the stone stairs. He hadn’t brought a bag, only because it would’ve weighed him down. Running was like swimming, he thought—move quickly. Avoid superfluous weight. Feel the breeze, and don’t fight against it. He reached the bottom of the stairs undetected, his neighbor’s lights still off and no crunch of tires over gravel in pursuit.

Haru had only ever gone to the beach in the dead of night. He’d never slipped through the outskirts of town, keeping to the shadows of the past-bloom cherry trees. He ducked into side streets and alleys, the lanes of Iwatobi narrow and dark. He avoided the buildings that still had lights on—businesses wrapping up for the night, or houses that glowed with late-night television. But the longer he spent creeping through Iwatobi’s streets, the more he doubted the way. He hadn’t brought his phone; the tracker would give him away instantly. He relied on the mental image of street and blocks that he’d memorized before dinner, but a hand-drawn map would’ve been nice as he cut through a part of town he was less familiar with.

But then, the alley came out onto a residential street. He walked around the pools of light offered by streetlamps, cutting across people’s properties. He recognized Rin’s street before Rin’s house came into view.

It was more modern than he was accustomed to, with adequate space for vehicles to park, and houses lined up in a row rather than on top of one another. There were no stone stairs to climb, and no quick, easy place to hide. Haru leaned against the brick facade of a stranger’s home, distantly praying no one inside was awake. He was panting, though he hadn’t been running. He belatedly realized he was waiting for his electronic trainer to reprimand him, but he was not inside his training pod. He had no cell phone. There was no one, and nothing, to lecture him about his own bodily functions.

He closed his eyes, willing his pounding heart to steady.

When it didn’t, he ran down the street anyway.

He recognized the side path before the house itself. Haru hadn’t paid much attention to the house before—but memory conjured Rin standing beside it, waiting for him to follow. Haru squinted into the darkness, like he imagined Rin to still be waiting, but then looked up at the house instead. It was two stories, with what he assumed were the bedrooms on the top floor. One emitted a dull glow, like that of a single floor lamp, or a child hiding with a flashlight past bedtime. Haru frowned. It hadn’t expected it to be _easy_ to discern Rin’s room, but he also hadn’t intended to put forth any effort.

He scanned the immediate area. There were no trees near any windows, though he doubted climbing them to spy actually worked. There was a drainage pipe snaking down from the gutter, but the results of attempting to climb it flashed before his eyes before he even considered it as an option. He crouched to gather a handful of pebbles, slipping them into the pocket of his jeans. The rocks uncomfortably jabbed his thigh, a minor annoyance.

Headlights swung onto the road, and Haru darted farther into the shadows. He didn’t know whose tree he hid behind—whether it was the Matsuoka’s or their neighbors—but he peered around the trunk to watch the lights stretch across the road. The car finally came into view, little but a darkened blot as it passed a streetlamp, and passed as quickly as it had appeared. He let out a sigh of relief, but its presence alone was motivation enough to chuck a pebble at the semi-glowing window.

He missed.

Haru glared at the window like the miss had been its fault. He rolled another pebble in his fingers, then chucked it at the window again. It didn’t hit its intended mark, but did bounce off the corner of the screen before tumbling down the side of the house. The light inside didn’t waver; he saw no shadow. He chucked another pebble, harder this time.

He ducked behind the tree when a shadow appeared.

The shadow had a ponytail.

It was not Rin.

Haru pressed his palms into the rough bark of the tree, trying to focus on any sign of movement from the other side. There was no audible sign of a window opening, but he also didn’t want to turn around and check. Just in case. He couldn’t remember if Rin had ever mentioned siblings, and he wondered what a potential sister would be like. Would she like Rin? Would she go out to investigate, or send her brother, or think she’d imagined the whole thing?

He risked a peek around the trunk.

The window was empty. Lights off, curtain drawn. He felt for another pebble in his pocket and aimed for the next window.

_“You.”_

His palm scraped against the bark as he whipped around, a pain that was overshadowed by the harsh, feminine voice behind him. The electronic trainer’s drone echoed in his mind, though it was on the other side of Iwatobi— _elevated heart rate. Please initiate relaxation exercises_. He didn’t think his hand was bleeding but he pressed his palms together anyway, his hand smarting where it had scraped across the bark.

It could only be Rin’s sister: Her eyes the same fiery red, flashing in the darkness. Her hair was piled in a high ponytail, and her mouth set in a firm line. If she wasn’t staring him down he’d be amused by her frilly pink nightgown, but he was focused more on the accusing finger she pointed at him.

“What are you doing out here?” she hissed. “Get inside.”

“What—”

“Not here!” Her grip was surprisingly firm around his wrist, and she’d blissfully grabbed the one that hadn’t been attacked by the tree. Haru cradled his injured hand to his chest, though the initial sting no longer hurt, stumbling as the girl yanked him toward the house. He tripped over exposed roots, nearly collapsing into her, then tripped again on an unseen stone path that lead to the front door. He stumbled over the foyer mat when she shoved him inside, but then slid the door closed so quietly that there was no noise along the track.

The rear of the house glowed, a kitchen light that had been unseen from Haru’s hiding spot outside. He didn’t have time to remove his shoes before the sister was pulling him toward it; he shielded his eyes though the light wasn’t so bright to bother him. There was a light fragrance of some sort of tea, mixed with a lingering scent of whatever they’d eaten for dinner—he couldn’t place it, but it made his stomach rumble again.

Haru tried not to show his disappointment at Rin being absent from the kitchen. But hiding _that_ was easy compared to the stomach-dropping fear of the woman sitting at the table instead.

If the girl who was still grasping his wrist was Rin’s sister, the woman who resembled them both could only be his mother. She didn’t rise from her seat to greet him; she only sipped from a teacup as she studied him coolly. Like she was a mob boss, having expecting him. Except she was smiling a little, a smirk that felt strangely familiar though Haru had only been introduced to the family trait the day prior. He glanced around the kitchen, though he already knew no one else was there. His wrist tingled—he hadn’t noticed when the sister had released it—and he rubbed the feeling back into it.

“Nanase.” The mother sighed, motioning to an empty seat beside her. “Take a seat. You’re making me tired.”

There were three empty chairs at the table, one to each side. The sister was at the stove, pouring a cup of tea.

A chair moved on its own, presumed to be nudged by the mother’s foot. “Please?”

The tea was jasmine, he learned, when he sat down to the cup the sister set before him. Steam wafted over the top, the scent a small comfort to his pounding blood. His stomach rumbled again, a noise commonly ignored but audible in the silence of the kitchen. Haru wanted to tell the sister not to bother with whatever she was doing in the fridge, but he silently studied the dregs of tea at the bottom of his cup instead.

“I’m not surprised you’re here,” the mother said. “Rin helps it all make sense, doesn’t it?”

Haru sat up straight. “What?”

“He's free, right?” She tapped one red-tipped finger on her teacup. “Though we no longer have my husband’s fishing boat, so you wouldn’t have gotten far.”

The sister set a plate of food on the table. Noodles, with some kind of meat Haru couldn’t place; he knew only that it wasn’t fish. She set chopsticks beside it, and Haru knew there would be no way of getting out of eating, even if he wanted to. The meal provided a distraction, a way to not look at any of them as he picked at a piece of broccoli. It was strange, having everything mixed together in the same sauce. He liked his vegetables separate. It was weird, but not bad. A little sweet. The crunch of the vegetables was too loud in his head.

Rin’s mom filled the silence that he wouldn’t. “Rin’s worked too hard to get his training pod,” she said. Haru bent lower over the food. “If I’d known it would be so hard for a transfer, we would’ve stayed in Sano. But he has all these romantic dreams.”

The sister giggled. “That’s onii-chan,” she said.

Haru pushed noodles around his plate with his chopsticks. He was conscious of the sister sitting across from him, though didn’t look up to acknowledge her. He chewed the meat slowly, wishing his mouth didn’t taste chalky and that he could appreciate its sauce better. Though the dish was cold, filling his belly warmed him. He wondered if anything would sense food outside his meal plan, or would care that he’d consumed a second dinner.

“I hate it,” Haru mumbled.

The confession fell flat in the silence. No answer was offered.

“I don’t want to do it,” he said, finally looking up at them both. They wore similar expressions, heads slightly tilted and eyes softened as they listened. That made it worse.

“Haru-san . . .” The sister reached across the table, but then hid her hands in her lap. But it was the mother’s hand that rested on his instead, and he was surprised by how cold it was. Maybe she always had cold hands. But it helped a little to bring down his spiking body temperature.

“It won’t always be like this,” she said. “You know, my husband . . .” She squeezed his hand. “Well. He never had a chance to get out of the pods. But there’s so much more out there for you.”

The National Team. _You don’t even have to try out_ , Rin had said.

 _I’m not joining_ , he thought. Haru wiggled his hand out from the mother’s grip, taking up his chopsticks again as an excuse. He was running out of excuses. There were only traces of noodles left swimming in sauce, with scattered vegetables pieces too small to easily pick up. He pushed a stray carrot around the plate before trying anyway, but his hands shook too much to have any success.

“ _Haru?_ Mom?!”

The chopsticks clattered to the table, bouncing off the rim of his plate and splashing his T-shirt with sauce. He imagined his face to look something like Rin’s at the moment, the blush bursting onto his cheeks and neck all at once. Rin crossed his arms over his chest, hugging his tablet backside-out. Like he was hiding whatever he’d been reading. Or, Haru suspected, hiding it from _him_.

“Hi, onii-chan!” he sister chirped.

“Don’t _onii-chan_ me!” He pointed at Haru. “What are _you_ doing here?!”

He thought of the path around the house, the secret route to the water. The wide-open ocean; the glittering sky above. There were always people milling about the stretch of shore near his own house, but he knew nothing of this part after dark. Would anyone notice? Were there places to hide? Rin was leaning against the doorframe now, his chest visibly rising and falling as he breathed. One strap of his tank top had started to slip off his shoulder. His hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it.

Haru swallowed. “I—”

His heart lurched when there was a knock on the door.

Rin’s mother pushed herself back from the table, the chair scraping loudly across the floor. “That’ll be for you,” she said, rolling her eyes at Haru, “but I’ll get it.”

His legs were frozen. His hand was still poised for the chopsticks, his eyes never wavering from the threshold of the kitchen. Rin hugged the tablet closer, shoulders hunched, folding into himself. Haru could feel the heat of his presence from across the kitchen, like his arms and hands were around him instead. Like they were still protected by the vast ocean. “I want to be free,” he said.

Rin broke eye contact first. “Haru—”

But he was jostled aside from his mother, bursting back into the kitchen. She waved a flippant hand. “It’s _all_ my fault,” she was saying. “I didn’t even _think_ to authorize the visit!” Haru was unsurprised that Amakata followed, though this time she traveled alone. The white suit didn’t look as crisp in the indoor light—she’d obviously not changed since Haru had seen her earlier, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that had partially fallen out. She pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’ve lived in Iwatobi long enough to know the rules,” Amakata said. “But because Nanase has been under adult supervision, we’ll let this one slide.” Rin recoiled under her stare, which she held a beat too long, but then she turned to Haru. “Will you please stay home this time? I have other things to do than chase you around Iwatobi.”

But Haru was still staring at Rin. Out of Amakata’s line of vision, Rin rolled his eyes. He smirked, though the blush still lingered on his cheeks. Haru averted his eyes. “Whatever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (chapter is [here](http://ellereanwrites.tumblr.com/post/150782419528) on tumblr.)


	4. Chapter 4

>   _To Haruka Nanase:_
> 
> _This is to inform you that your probationary period has ended._
> 
> _I wish I could present this news with great joy, but cannot ignore the strikes now on your record. Your unregistered visitor will not be held against you, as it is your first offence, but I cannot overlook your behavior with a member of our trainee division. Both you and Rin Matsuoka will be monitored for the next thirty days, but I trust that your physical interactions were little but a means of getting a reaction out of your superiors._
> 
> _Training Pod #1030 has been cleaned and purified. In addition, the Electronic Trainer has been upgraded along with several minor improvements that I hope you will find satisfactory._
> 
> _Whether you return to your Pod is your decision. If you wish, you can be downgraded to “recreational” and will be permitted limited hours in the trainee pool. Your progress will not be monitored. Conversely, if you continue with your training I can say with confidence that your odds of placing on the National Team are higher than most. You have until Monday to decide._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Miho Amakata_

* * *

 

It hadn’t been _Rin_ caught in the act, but he was still cautious. The hole in the fence; the spot behind the rose bushes. He stared at it from across the trainee pool. The sky was tinged with early-morning light as he leaned back against the chain-link fence, his seat cold from the concrete slab beneath him. He rolled the stem of a rose between his fingers as he stared up at the training pods. They were still dark; it wasn’t yet time for training. He counted up eight rows, focusing in on pod number 920. _Dad_ , he thought, wondering who occupied it now, wondering if he had claim to it when the time came. For the time _would_ come. He wasn’t sitting around in his legskins at eight a.m. for nothing.

There was one person swimming laps in the trainee pool. He hadn't yet noticed Rin, swimming back and forth unceasingly since he'd come out from the locker room. Rin looked down at his tablet, which rested on the ground beside him. He’d stopped reading so long ago that the screen had blacked out into power saver mode. But if he were to bring it back to life, it would still be opened to the  _Swimmer's Manual_. Chapter eight—Training Pods—subsection two, “Dual Occupancy.” Instead he zeroed in on pod number 1030, seemingly darker than the rest despite how illogical that thought was. 

 

>   _Dual Occupancy: Trainers are permitted to share a Pod for the sake of “partnered” training. One must not be more skilled than the other to allow equal training for both parties. Dual occupancy must be authorized by the Training Authorities and, if either trainer is under the age of sixteen, by a parent or guardian._

He listened to the gentle splash of water in the trainee pool. Rin buried his nose in the flower, inhaling deeply. He twirled the stem one last time before setting it on the concrete, as if it could root and grow in such a place. From across the trainee pool, over the fence, the first trainers began to filter into the courtyard. The pods weren't yet open, but they lingered outside to mingle and to socialize. Rin tore his gaze away to watch the sole trainee in the pool before him. Flip, turn, swim. Over and over, without pause, like he was the only one to ever belong in a pool.

 

* * *

 

Haru had been out of the water for too long. He lay on his back, arms spread to his side, his chest still heaving with exertion. With his eyes closed, he could still feel the water. He felt it on his chest, and his arms, and saturated in his swimsuit. The longer he lay, the more the water dried. His hands felt stiff, his fingers slightly pruned. He wiggled his fingers and the skin felt like stretched leather. Too dry. He opened his eyes.

_“Extended recovery time detected. Nanase, please return to the pool.”_

Haru rose, then stepped to the edge of the pool. With all its sensors and calculations, he was mildly amused that the pool could not register how close he stood. His toes curled over the edge and he was leaning over the surface; any farther, and he’d have shattered its crystal clear surface.

But it didn’t notice. It was just a machine.

 _“Nanase,”_ it repeated, almost sounding exasperated, _“please return to the pool.”_

Haru hadn’t heard the rest of the command, because he’d already dived in.

He hadn’t bothered telling the trainer his intended distance. It knew, anyway, and he was tired of the constant reminder of his speed. He performed better when he didn’t know. The electronic trainer could track him all it wanted; it was the machine that cared for his times. Haru just swam.

 _“One-hundred meter free,”_ it chirped, when he stopped. _“Fifty-five point one seconds. This is point four seconds slower than your current record. Please implement a ninety-second recovery period and replenish fluids.”_

He propped one arm on the pool’s edge, grabbing the endless water bottle with the other. “Minor improvements”—the tube connecting the bottle to the water source didn’t snag, and he hardly felt it pull when he tilted the bottle back to drink. _Of all things to upgrade_ , Haru thought. _A water bottle_.

He couldn’t figure out what was different about the electronic trainer, besides the voice being a little less grating. Perhaps more human-sounding. He stared out the curved windows, where he could only see the treetops. Down below would be the courtyard. The chain-link fence with the hole in it. The trainee pool, where those with grand dreams would be swimming. Or, at least,  _one_ with grand dreams. The electronic trainer would only be able to tell that his heart rate had slowed, or that his emotional health had improved. It would never know that he'd allowed himself to smile.

“Training complete,” he said. “Begin cool-down.”

 _“Regime not complete,”_ it simply replied.

“Override.”

 

* * *

 

The way to the Matsuoka residence was easier by daylight. It was also easier, Haru mused, to be following main roads, and not slink in the shadows whenever a car passed.

It was also easier to by guided by Rin himself, though he hadn’t stopped talking since they’d met up outside the training pods.

Rin was going on and on about this new girl at the pool, but Haru was only half-listening. He clutched the strap of his swim bag, looking around as they cut across streets and followed the sidewalk to the residential district. Studying, memorizing. Things only started to look familiar when they turned onto Rin’s street, and the two-story house could be seen in the distance.

The house was loud from only the front step; before Rin yanked the door open he could hear the feminine voices inside. The conversation grew louder when they stepped inside, and louder still when headed toward the kitchen in the rear of the house.

The sister— _Gou_ , Haru reminded himself—waved from the kitchen table, where textbooks and notes were spread out before her. The mother thrust a tablet in front of their faces before saying hello. “Check in,” she said.

Rin grumbled, but pressed his thumb to the screen on his mother’s tablet. Haru followed suit, watching the screen flash to green to authorize the check-in. _Only twenty-eight more days_ , he thought. Twenty-eight days of check-ins, of glorified babysitting, of making sure he was exactly where he claimed to be at all times. He sighed. It _was_ easier going to Rin’s house, where an adult was present, versus going home to the facial recognition and locked doors as soon as he arrived.

“We already ate,” his mother said, “but yours are still warm over there.” She motioned to the counter, where two portion-controlled meals were sealed with wrap and lids. The glass was steamed from the inside, making whatever was inside indistinguishable. “Feel free to eat in front of the TV and accidentally fall asleep on each other.”

Rin’s cheeks reddened. _“Mom.”_

Haru was already walking toward the counter, eying up one of the dinners.

There wasn’t anything good at television, despite how many times Rin flipped through the channels. Haru’s lap was warm from the glass container, but also warm from how closer Rin was sitting, one leg pressed up against him. Rin’s dinner sat on the couch beside him, still steaming though the lid had been off for several minutes. He stopped flipping the channels and dropped the remote on the floor.

The screen showed a sitcom that Haru thought was geared toward girls, but said nothing because Rin wasn’t even looking at it. He poked his beef with his chopsticks, mixing it around in the miso sauce. Rin’s mom had used a lot of miso. Haru didn’t dislike it. But it was different.

“Was it just to get a reaction?”

Haru’s chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth. The noodles hung lifelessly, the sauce dripping back down into his plate. Rin was turned away, suddenly absorbed with eating, his mouth full as he chewed slowly.

Of course Rin had seen the letter, though Haru hadn’t shared. His mom would’ve received it, too, informed of their monitoring with the instructions on what to do each day. Haru lowered his chopsticks without eating the noodles. The feel of the ocean returned—the salty air, and Rin’s salty lips. The smile before the boat had arrived. The freedom.

He looked up. Rin was eating angrily now, anything to avoid having to speak. He was still chewing when he took up another piece of beef, preparing it for the lapse in time he wasn’t eating, to keep his mouth busy and to stop himself from saying anything else stupid.

Haru set a hand on his shoulder. The television switched to a commercial, advertising something bright and pink and frilly. He lightly brushed his lips against Rin’s cheek. “It’s not the only reason.”

“Oh?” When Rin turned around, a slight smile played at his lips. “So you’re _using_ me, Nanase?”

Haru looked down at his meal. “Shut up.”

They watched television. They finished dinner, setting their empty containers on the side table. Rin found a sitcom that was _not_ geared toward teenage girls and draped an arm across the back of the couch. Haru looked around the room. There was a small shrine to Rin’s father in the corner, and a lot of family photos. Sunlight lit up the living room windows, but the blinds were closed, the curtains drawn.

He’d received Rin’s message after his cool-down. _Did you know about this?_ he’d written, attaching chapter eight, subsection two of the _Swimmer’s Manual_. He watched Rin from the corner of his eye, who was actually watching television. His hair had flopped across one eye, and Haru resisted the urge to brush it out of the way. _Dual Occupancy_. Haru closed his eyes, scooting closer to rest his cheek on Rin’s shoulder. Perhaps it wouldn’t be an accidental sleep, with the comfort of Rin’s bodily warmth. He wouldn’t have noticed Rin stiffen if he wasn’t wholly conscious of Rin’s everything—the arm over the back of the couch; the slight pulse of his chest as he breathed. But then the lightest touch of fingertips brushed his hair, and he didn’t care what was on television anymore. He cared about the fingers combing his hair, and the warm mist of Rin’s breath. He felt Rin breathing in; the scent of chlorine in his hair had to be overwhelming.

“How’s training?” Haru asked, eyes still closed. It was a long while before Rin replied, so long that Haru wondered if he’d even asked. It wouldn’t be impossible that he’d already fallen asleep, and was dreaming.

But then Rin’s arm draped across his shoulders, and his mouth rested atop Haru’s head. “I’ll get there,” he said, the words muffled against his hair.

Haru nodded drowsily. “I know.” It wasn’t a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter is [here](http://ellereanwrites.tumblr.com/post/151806590408) on tumblr.


End file.
